Prompt stories!
by Crazycatscarmen
Summary: These are stories of any character from Gravity Falls! You give me a prompt and I guess I'll try my best to write it? Tw is in the chapter headings. (I would be very grateful if they could all be one-shot prompts). Feel free to use any of these ideas! Just don't forget to credit the prompt giver, etc.
1. Ghosts

**Tw: Major character death. ?**

 **Prompt from anon "Mabel dies and she comes back as a ghost"  
**

* * *

Mabel was _bored._

Despite everything that had happened, she couldn't help it. Being like this- being all alone in a house full of people who couldn't see her, was _boring._ She had tried to communicate, she'd even tried possessing an old sock like Dipper had done earlier that summer, but her hand just phased through.

It also _hurt._ Dipper was a mess after it happened. He wouldn't eat or even talk. He never looked either Grunkle in the eye anymore. Mabel thought that maybe Grunkle Ford could help Dipper, but at least Ford's twin was still _alive!_ Mabel was...

Gone. And she wasn't sure how to get back.

She shuddered to think of the day everything had gone to dust. It was symbolic almost. The day that they saved the world was the day her family fell apart. She recalled with horror the feeling of Bill's cold hand and the way he casually snapped his fingers and then suddenly everything went black.

Then she was floating. She was floating above the entire scene and she could hear her Grunkle's screams of desperation and see Dipper's stubbornly set jaw as he demanded she stop playing around and _wake up._ _Mabel please, wake up!_

It made her want to cry. She learned pretty quickly she wasn't capable of crying. That didn't really bother her though. What bothered her was...how? How had she returned? Why was she here? Why couldn't she talk to her family?

These questions pounded in her head and it _hurt so much because she couldn't answer them!_ She couldn't help her family.

Mabel felt like a failure.

A failure that couldn't fix anything, uselessly hanging to the side as she watched her family struggle with their loses in solitude from even one another.

...

Dipper was staring at the ground again. Mabel wished she knew what he was thinking. There was nothing cool on the ground- except wood. Mabel groaned and turned over in the air until she was staring at the ceiling. At least the ceiling had something going for it- even if it was miscellaneous fluid stains. She stayed like that for what felt like hours until she couldn't take it anymore. She turned back over and stood right in front of her brother, screaming,

"C'MON WHY CAN'T YOU SEE ME!? STOP STARING AT THE GROUND! THERE IS NOTHING ON THE GROUND!"

Dipper didn't move.

Okay, so maybe Mabel was feeling a little stressed. I mean, why wouldn't she be?! Her Grunkle Stan was struggling to remember much of anything. {There was progress, but it was slow going.} Grunkle Ford had forgotten Dipper was supposed to go home at some point and that their parents would need to be informed that Mabel was dead sometime in the near future. Actually, did Grunkle Ford even know that they didn't live with Grunkle Stan year round? She wasn't sure.

Nothing was being solved and it was peaking her frustration with this whole 'dead' thing to the breaking point.

She just wanted them to _SEE HER._ Her hands were clenched and she screamed towards the sky. It was a wordless cry, just trying to stem some of her anger at her situation.

"Gah!"

She stopped and blinked open her eyes to see Dipper on the other side of the room, mouth gaped open.

Mabel looked down.

She was pulsing, a furious shade of red, her entire body engulfed in the glow. She looked up again right into Dipper's eyes.

"Ma- Mabel?" He whispered.

She grinned and squealed, "DIP-DOP! YOU CAN SEE ME?!" Her face twisted in confusion.

"You can see me? How...?" She stared at her own arms, which were still pulsing softly. Then her smile returned, eyes glowing with excitement. "I don't care! Dipper! you can see me! Finally!" Her face abruptly turned serious, "If you ever consider raising me as a zombie again, I will bury your corkboard in the dirt. As soon as I figure out how to move things." She smiled again and floated closer. Dipper was frozen, eyes wide.

"M-M-Mabel!" He seemed to break out of his shock and went in for a hug- he'd missed her so much- but his arms went right through her. She giggled,

"Don't! That tickles." She held out a hand instead and Dipper, after a moment, let his hand hover above hers. She looked up from where their hands were pretending to be linked and gasped.

Dipper was crying.

He hadn't cried...not even at the funeral- as if nothing had sunken in properly, but now tears streamed down his face in waves. Mabel frowned,

"Dipper, I thought this was a good thing! Why are you crying?!"

Dipper sniffled and gave her a watery smile. "Heh. I- Mabel I thought I'd lost you." He gave a tense chuckle. "Guess you're another mystery now, right?" He examined her hand closer.

"I don't understand! You don't seem to fall under any of the other classifications for ghosts..."

Mabel rolled her eyes. Well, he got over that fast. "Nerd."

He laughed. "Dork." His eyes widened. "Mabel! Do you think Great-Uncle Ford and Grunkle Stan...?"

Mabel clapped her hands together, "let's go find out!" She zipped through the walls. Dipper was laughing from behind her- the elation of having his sister back was exhilarating in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

Had she only died a week ago? He wasn't sure. Felt more like an eternity to Dipper.

Mabel quickly glanced Grunkle Ford in the kitchen, staring into a cup of coffee dully. She waited until Dipper was beside her. She needed him to introduce her!

Dipper walked into the kitchen and cleared his throat. "Great-Uncle Ford?"

Ford jumped and his fallen face quickly switched to that of a supportive smile. "Dipper! You're here! What...you look so happy. What happened?" Ford's brow furrowed and Dipper laughed,

"Well, um. I'm not sure but I'm actually here to make sure this is real and not a figment of my imagination..." Dipper rubbed at his neck uncomfortably at that last bit but quickly gestured to the doorway.

"Introducing! My sister."

Mabel popped from behind the doorway, appearing in front of her grunkle with jazz hands. Ford jumped ten feet in the air- which seemed to relieve Dipper to no end.

"Tada! I've been here for so long Grunkle Ford! You have no idea how relieved I am that you can see me finally!" She suddenly changed expressions to that of annoyance.

"And if you EVER consider suicide again I will cling to your leg and never let go. As soon as I figure out how to cling to things."

Dipper gaped at her exclamation and Ford paled, but she seemed to move on and was smiling again. Ford was shaking, one hand resting over his mouth.

"M-Mabel?"

Crap- now both the nerds were crying! Why!? This was a good thing!

"Yeah! It's me!"

Ford sat back in his chair in amazement...

"He kept his end of the deal..."

Mabel blinked in confusion but Dipper gasped.

"Bill! You asked him to bring her back!"

Ford nodded. "Of course, he would go and cheat me one last time. He _knew_ this was not what I meant." Ford considered his great-niece for a moment before breaking into a grin.

"But it's a start. Mabel, I think I know how to bring you back."

* * *

 **And why did I make this?**

 **I don't think it's going to continue- apologies anon.**

 **I'm sorry that it sucks- I don't really write Dipper and Mabel and this prompt was so sad. LIKE SO SAD. I couldn't leave it as her just staring at her family falling apart though so she returned kinda! and UGH she is so OOC.**

 **If anyone wants to take this idea and finish the story just be sure to credit me and the anon and have fun with it!**

 **I mean...I don't know why you'd want to copy off my crappy work...ahem. Anyway. Hope you enjoyed reading this...? Whatever it is anyway.**


	2. Pocket full of Sunshine

**Tw for this story: Abuse, suicide attempt. Depression and lots of angst. I love you guys, please don't ever hurt yourselves. I hope you enjoy the story instead! Btw this is only the first chapter- this story is going to be really long.  
**

 **Prompt by: dm4487. It's called: A Pocketful of Sunshine. The name deceives you, but don't worry, I manage to squeeze in fluff in everything!**

* * *

Stan could feel the blood rushing to his head as he hung upside down from his bed, counting his hits with the paddleball in boredom. The steady beating of the ball had been a mind-numbing distraction for the last hour or so. He missed a beat- eventually, and sighed. After a moment, he pulled himself up and let out a soft groan as his body righted itself, his back sore from lying in the unnatural position he'd been in.

"Ford. I think I just broke like three records. Wanna go do something?" Stan stretched his hands above his head as he stood up and shook his head of the dizzy spell that had come over him.

Ford was at his desk, pouring over a novel he'd gotten just earlier that day. Stan could see that he was already more than two-thirds of the way through.

His head came up from within the pages and he blinked. "Hmm? What did you say?"

Stan rolled his eyes and walked over to the desk, swiftly pulling the book out of Ford's hands, who whined. "Stanley!"

He huffed, "Ford. Ya've nearly finished it! Ya haven't stopped once! How's about we go make somethin' ta eat? You're so skinny I could break ya in half in my sleep!" Stan smirked and it was Ford's turn to roll his eyes.

"You're just as skinny as I am, Ley. Just because you beat me in the boxing ring _once_ doesn't mean I have to put up with this." He squared his shoulders and gave Stan a meaningful look, "Anyway, if I'm neglecting my stomach, you're neglecting your eyes. How many times have I told you to wear your glasses, Stanley? You'll go blind if you keep this up any longer!"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Nerd." Stan slipped over to where his glasses resided in their nightstand and pulled them out the top drawer. He shoved them unto his face and grunted.

"Better? Will you eat now?"

Ford nodded in approval and consequently, in agreement. "Yes, much."

"Finally!" Stan grabbed him by the arm and they ran down the stairs towards the kitchen. Stan, saved from his death by boredom was grinning like a loon.

Stanley loved to cook. It was something he had learned very slowly over the years. He loved the feeling and the smells and he especially enjoyed it when he saw the smiles on other peoples faces when he proudly presented them with whatever he'd managed to make. Not that he showed anyone how happy it made him. He would sometimes complain. _Can't you feed yourselves?_

Sometimes he would just wave away their compliments. _Yeah yeah. Foods for eating, not bragging about. Eat already._

But oh how he loved it.

Of course, he had tons of mishaps was he was younger. Eggs falling to the floor. Fires started in the oven. Flour exploding in his face. Usually, after these incidents, they would laugh and clean up and start again.

On other nights-

Ahem. Either way, He'd never lost his love for the craft.

Stan and Ford made it to the kitchen. It was a small space, one with a single rickety wood table they used for family dinners. Breakfast was usually eaten on the move, walking to school or on the couch on a lazy Saturday morning. When they were allowed lazy days, anyway.

Ford sat obediently at the table. They'd learned pretty quick that anything Ford touched swiftly went from harmless pancake batter to an explosive experiment.

Hence why Ford was _not_ allowed to cook. It would be funny, but Stan still swore he had nearly died that day. Whenever the ' _incident'_ as Stan loathingly called it, came up Ford would roll his eyes and call him dramatic.

" _Stanley! You just lost an eyebrow! It wasn't dangerous! I swear, it was going to be delicious!"_

 _"Food is not supposed to explode, Poindexter."_

Yeah. Ford was definitely not allowed to cook.

Since Ford usually felt useless and childish sitting out as his brother did all the work, it was Ford's job to read off the ingredients and directions. Stan had most of the recipes in their beat-up cookbook memorized, but he didn't bother telling Ford that. He probably realized it anyway, but they had fun with it and that was the important part Stan figured.

Slipping on the incredibly manly apron their Ma had bought Stanley just two years ago, he turned to Ford, who pulled open the cookbook. He raised a brow in question.

"Whatcha hankerin' for? I was thinking...enchiladas."

Ford cocked his head, "Just for lunch?"

Stan shrugged. "We could make a large batch and call it early dinner with thirds and fourths? Ya never know, it might last till tomorrow too."

He seemed to give it some thought for a moment, but Ford eventually nodded. " I don't see why not. Now first we need-"

They went through the motions of getting out the supplies and prepping everything before throwing it in the oven. Stan could feel himself relaxing, although he hadn't realized he'd been tense before then.

Time at school was getting worse. They'd both made plenty of enemies. Ford for always being on top and Stan for defending him. The only friend either of them had was Stan's ex-girlfriend Carla Mccorkle. She and Stan had dated for all of three months before she dumped him for some hippie. Stan hated him with a vengeance, but Ford and Stan were still friends with Carla. He was never really able to stay mad at her. Although, they didn't hang out nearly as much as they had used to before the break-up.

Honestly, he couldn't understand what she saw in the guy.

Stan was chopping at the green onions on the counter for the enchiladas and nicked his finger, distracting by his thoughts.

"Ah! Yeesh. Ford, could you grab the first aid kit? I got my finger pretty good over here." Stan heard the chair pushed backward and the echoing footsteps of Ford running to the bathroom for the kit. Stan idly sucked on his finger as he cleared away the tainted food into the sink's garbage disposal. Dang, what a waste.

Ford came back in and demanded to see his hand. He scowled when he realized Stan had been sucking on it.

"Stanley, you know that it could get infected, right?! Now rinse it off!" Ford gestured to the sink and Stan scoffed as he moved to turn on the water.

"Sixer, it's fine...gah." Stan shook the water off as the cut abruptly stung him and he glared at it, bringing his finger closer for a better inspection. Wow, he'd really gotten himself, it was deep enough to leave a scar. He winced as Ford grabbed at it and examined it for himself. Ford mumbled a brief 'sorry' before reaching for the red bag on the counter.

"Stanley, you really should be more careful." Ford didn't look up as he expertly wrapped his finger in a bandage after applying Neosporin. "The more pressure you use to cut and the faster you're working, the more you need to concentrate. You know that." Ford finished and leaned away, zipping the bag closed.

Stan gave a small, almost sad laugh. "Yeah. Sorry, I guess I was just thinking."

Ford gasped theatrically, "How scandalous! Stanley Pines, thinking!"

Punching at his arm playfully, Stan laughed, "I know you know what I'm talking about!" Ford cocked a brow.

"Or do I know what you know that I am supposedly supposed to know?" Ford snickered when Stan gawked at him,

"Ford! Well, now I'm just not going to tell you." Stan folded his arms over his chest and looked haughtily towards the ceiling. Ford pouted.

"Ley. You know I was just joking!" Ford huffed when Stan didn't even look at him. "C'mon! Now I'm curious!"

Stan broke and snorted, "You're always curious!" He went silent and after a second or two Ford adjusted his glasses. More out of habit than anything.

"Well?" He tried to get Stan to look him in the eyes as he waited for an answer. Stan turned away towards the fridge and began gathering more ingredients. They still needed lunch.

"Stanley..."

Stan sighed and dropped the food out of his arms. "It's nothing, actually. I was just thinking about school. I mean, I know this is our last year, but why has it gone from bad to worse? I mean, I can't walk down the hallway without being tripped..."

Ford's face fell and his eyes fell to the ground. "Oh."

"And it's not only that." Stan continued, unaware of his twin's reaction as he began organizing all the food on the counter in practiced movements. "We don't really have any ally's here, do we? I mean, you'd think we'd at least make one friend after we spent eleven years in the same stinkin' town, ya know? I mean, there's Carla, but we don't talk much anymore after she- we broke up."

Ford was silent and once Stan realized this he glanced up from his work to see Ford leaning dejectedly against the counter, staring determinedly at the floor. Stan's brow furrowed in concern.

"Ford...?"

Ford looked away, biting his lip. He was staring at his hands again. Stan nearly groaned in exasperation. "Ford, you know I don't blame you, right? We've gone over this, it isn't your fault!" Stan swallowed. "None of it, Ford. Nothing was ever your fault." His voice went softer. Ford mumbled something Stan couldn't hear and cleared his throat. Stan contemplated his guilt-ridden brother for a moment before sighing.

"Ford? If they hate us, if he hates us, it's their fault. What did I say about blaming yourself?"

Ford looked up with an almost confused look. "Um...that it's dumb?"

Stan nodded. "And are you dumb?" Stan gestured with the knife in his hand as he spoke and Ford's eyes widened as he grabbed Stan's arm to stop the knife from hitting anything vital,

"Stanley! I know you're being stupid on purpose, haven't you already cut yourself once?"

Stan just smirked, "See? You can't be the dumb one. That's my job."

Ford looked like he wanted to argue, but stopped himself just then. He sighed in defeat. "Fine, but no self-deprecation."

Stan put the knife down and wrapped his brother in a half hug that Ford returned nearly immediately. "Heh, knew we'd get there. For such a brainy bro, you really take a while to catch on."

Ford shoved him away, "Yeah, whatever you knucklehead."

He chuckled and glanced at the still unfinished food. _I'm going to regret this later._ Stan glanced at the food back to Ford. "Wanna help me, cook? Maybe without setting anything on fire?" Stan tacked that last bit on, just in case. Ford's eyes lit up.

"Are you sure?"

Stan gave him a small smile. "Heh, maybe. Maybe not. You can put everything in the pan. All you have to do is place things on top of each other. Even you can do that!"

Ford gave him a confident grin and cracked his hands. "Who can't?"

They worked together on finishing the food and the clean up afterward. They both nearly choked on their laughter when Ford somehow succeeded in getting a pot on his head. Neither of them even knew where it came from.

All the work was finally finished and they both played card games at the table while waiting for the food to finish. It was a Saturday afternoon and neither of them had any plans. Stan had work off that day- {he had a part-time job at a local mechanics shop}- and Stan wouldn't let Ford go back to his book.

The smell of the enchiladas filled the air and Ford grinned sheepishly every time his stomach growled, Stan never missing the opportunity to point out that Ford was a human being after all. A human that needed sustenance. Not that Stan's stomach wasn't growling just as aggressively. They both shot out of their seats when the timer went off and they groaned in satisfaction at when it was set on the table {with a hot pad of course} still sizzling from the heat. Ford grabbed the dishes from the cupboard, ignoring the fourth plate that sat there and set up the table.

Stan sighed appreciatively at the sight, but pointed with his thumb towards the doorway. "Thanks, Ford. I'm gonna grab Ma, see if she wants lunch." Ford nodded and Stan left.

He sat outside the door for a moment before knocking, trying to gauge whether she was talking to a client or not. When he didn't hear anything he knocked three times on the hard oak door.

"Come in!"

Stan's brow furrowed, something sounded off. Stan turned the doorknob and the door swung open to reveal the office.

It was simple. She never saw any of her clients in person so she had never bothered to try and keep it tidy, especially after- after everything. Stan looked at his Ma sitting at the old black desk, eyes covered and hidden as they were buried in her hands.

"Ma?" Stan asked uncertainly. Was she crying?

Ma hadn't cried since...

She looked up and Stan froze. Mascara ran down her face and she wiped at it self-consciously. "Stanley. There you are. What is it you need?"

Stan held out a helpless hand, "I-I was going to ask if you wanted lunch. We made enchiladas..." Stan stepped closer, "Ma, what's wrong?" A horrible feeling was blooming in Stan's gut and he didn't like it one bit.

It grew worse when she only sobbed in response. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into a hug. It wasn't normal for them, but she was upset. Stan was flexible like that.

She clung to him, her sharp, fake nails biting into his back. He gritted his teeth and ignored it, still waiting for a real answer. "Ma? C'mon, you can tell me."

"O-oh Stanley, my baby boy. Both of you! What am I going to do?"

Stan mentally cringed at being called a baby boy but decided this wasn't the best time to complain that he was seventeen- hardly a child.

"Ma, you're not makin' any sense. What's goin' on?" Stan pulled away and his mother sniffed. She opened her mouth to say something when Ford popped in.

"Hey! Are you com- what's wrong?" Ford's eyes widened when he noticed his teary-eyed mom and he stepped in, looking to Stan for some sort of clue as to why she was crying. Stan just gave him a confused frown and shrugged.

Ford's voice was soft, "Ma? Are you okay?"

She burst into a fresh set of tears and Ford looked decidedly overwhelmed when he was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug from a mother who rarely showed physical affection.

They weren't sure what else to do, so Stan and Ford let her hug them both until she was calm enough to speak coherently. She apologized when she could talk and the twins waved it off, repeatedly asking her what was wrong.

She looked them both in the eyes and Stan and Ford nodded in unison, encouraging her to go on. She gathered up her courage, or that's what it seemed like. Her voice was suddenly monotone and lifeless as she forced the words past her throat.

"You're Father called." She looked away. Both Ford and Stan had gone stock still, identical eyes wide with horror.

"He's coming home."

Their jaws dropped.

 _Not again._

* * *

 **And that's the first chapter! This is going to be a very long story, folks. I HOPE IT DOESN'T SUCK I'M GOING TO BED GOOODNIGHHHTTT!**

 **Stan: Yeesh, what is this? So many emotions. *shudder***

 **Ford: ...*does not compute emotion and therefore this entire story***

 **Hehe, it's gonna get worse. SO MUCH WORSE LOVE YA GUYS. Ps: I might make this a story all on its own? Whatcha think? Next chapter coming eventually...**


	3. Hey! I'm the update angel! PFOS

**I am the update angel. I have come to bless you with a very delayed update! Btw Filbrick is super ooc in this story. Also, I haven't written in awhile, sorta lost my groove there for a bit, so this is gonna be a shaky chapter. So I hope you can excuse how much it sucks. :(  
**

* * *

 _Stan curled in tighter on himself as he cowered. A shadow fell over him, large and menacing. He whimpered a plea of mercy._

 _Crack! The belt buckle met flesh and Stan's eyes burned as he cried out. The buckle glinted in the dim light as it swung towards him again. The wielder of the weapon scowled,_

 _"Useless!" Crack! "Weak!" Crack! Stan bit down on his hand to stop the sobs from escaping. Filbrick snarled at him, his drunken breath hitting Stan like a brick wall as the belt swung around again and again,_

 _"Man up! Stop whining. You brought this on yourself." The belt fell to the ground and Stan stared at it fearfully. He couldn't bring himself to look at his father. Filbrick kneeled beside him. "You failed me. I asked you to do ONE thing, and you SCREWED IT UP." Filbrick snapped at him and the belt was back in the air._

 _A single tear trailed down Stan's cheek as he sat against the wall, waiting out his father's temper. There was only one thought that circled his mind as the vicious cycle continued._

 _'It's all my fault.'_

 _..._

Stan was trembling and Ford quickly took note and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, brows furrowed in concern.

"Stanley?" Ford's eyes were wide with their own fear, but Stan's mind had gone on lockdown. He was unreachable in this state. It was a self-preservation mechanism, Ford supposed.

It had always been worse for him. Filbrick couldn't risk messing up Ford too much. Their mother sat back down at her desk and Ford spared her a glance before taking Stan's arm and tugging him towards the door. His voice was tense as he tried talking Stan out of his shock.

"C'mon Stanley, Come on. It's going to be okay, I promise, let's go have lunch, okay?" Ford himself was shaking now as he listened to the lies his mouth and mind provided to the both of them. "We-we need to eat, remember?" Ford let go of his arm and intertwined their hands together. Stan finally stumbled after him as he was pulled along and Ford sighed in relief.

"Stanley?" He whispered. His throat was closing off and he could barely keep back the tears as the force of the news settled in. Stan blinked slowly at him. Ford nodded encouragingly. "Can you hear me?" Ford asked. They were in the kitchen again and Stan stopped moving. His eyes were wide in awareness and Stan stared at Ford in horror.

"F-Ford?"

Ford nodded. His voice cracked. "Y-yeah. I'm here."

Stan and Ford stared searchingly at one another as if they were having a silent conversation. Eventually, Stan looked away, eyes closing. His face was twisted in pain. His voice coarse.

"I can't do it again Ford."

Ford started to panic. This wasn't good. No, none of it was good, but nothing had even happened yet! Maybe, maybe Filbrick had a change of heart. Maybe it would be better this time. Ford stuttered through his alarm and let go of Stan's hand only to wrap him in a hug.

"D-don't say that! You never know, he might not even show up." Ford said, his words tinged with optimism, he pushed himself out of the embrace and Stan could see the hope sparkling in his eyes. "You-you never really know."

Stan was still tense and he could _feel_ his mind already spiraling, switching back to the mindset he'd spent five years trying to shake off, but he smiled anyway. _Don't let it show._

"Heh, maybe."

Stan pulled Ford into one last hug and moved towards the table to serve out lunch. He was silent as he worked and he could feel Ford's worried gaze on him, but he kept his eyes trained on what he was working on. The entire time he was mentally preparing himself. Maybe it was insane, but he swore he could already feel the fear of failure crawling up his skin.

Ford watched his brother work with a worried eye. Although Ford himself had undergone many...hard nights himself, it had never been half has difficult as what Stan had gone through. He recalled with a heavy heart all the nights spent hiding in terror, or holding tight to one another as their father screamed and yelled. Ford felt a pang of pain for their mother shoot through his chest as he thought of all the loud and often violent arguments.

Ford sighed as he left the room to make sure his mother ate something. His appetite had gone, but they all needed a distraction.

He hesitated outside the door, but she glanced up from her seat and waved him inside. Ford set down the plate on her desk and swallowed.

"Ma..."

She smiled, her eyes sad.

"Stanford. I'm sorry for scaring you both like that. If- if it makes either of you feel better. He said he was...sober and looking for a second chance." She wiped at her eyes and picked herself up.

"Maybe...maybe I've overreacted. Maybe It'll be better this time." She said. Ford bit back a remark about how he'd said the same thing and nodded. She cupped his face with one hand.

"You've both always been good boys. You've both been so strong..." She trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes. Ford coughed purposefully into his hand and she perked back up with a smile. She patted his cheek and sat back down.

"Thank you for bringing me lunch. I need to se- settle some things here before your father arrives."

Ford nodded again and turned to leave the room. He looked back for a moment when he'd reached the doorway.

"I love you, ma."

She turned a watery smile towards him.

"I love you too."

* * *

 **Um. I told you. I need to get back in the groove...but I've been trying to keep each story and or chapter I make at least a thousand words so? There's that? Um...Please review and tell me what I could do better/ what you enjoyed. Please don't be shy because I seriously need help getting over my writer's block. Love you guys :3 thanks for reading!**

 **Ford: So...**

 **Stan: So...?**

 **Ford: That's all I have at the moment.**

 **Stan: Oh. Well get it together, I don't have enough brain cells for the both of us.**


	4. Um Hands you conciliatory chocolate

**PLEASE READ ALL THE WAY THROUGH, THANK YOU.**

 **This is for a random guest, whose prompt was, 'Bill redemption story with Bill placed deep within Stan's mind so he was like Ford's twin growing up or something and some other words that were super hard for my tired brain to understand'**

Not a direct quote, but that was basically it.

 **First off- no. Second off, I love you, but no. Thirdly, I love you all please feel free to send in prompts, but no. I refuse. Bill is dead to me. He is worse than dead. He is clam chowder. I freakin' hate clam chowder. (Okay, I'll be serious now)**

You are amazing, thank you for your wonderful prompt, but man my brain was not ready for what you threw at me, I think you killed me.

 **It was a very good prompt! I encourage SOMEONE to take it because even though I refuse to write it, I'm sure that some other talented and creative author can do a much better job than I would.**

 **Thank you so much for reading and leaving a review though! Seriously, it means the world, please don't hate me because I hate Bill and am trash at writing. A little clarification for all of you out there,**

 **I made these prompt stories to be mostly just one-shots. So if you could keep 'em nice and short, (because that Bill one I feel would need a lot of time to make readable), that would be more than amazing. I'm sorry if I've disappointed you.**

 **Another clarification, I took the 'pocket full of sunshine' prompt because I was already planning on making a suicidal Stan (oops, was that a spoiler? I don't think so, but if you weren't expecting that, I'm sorry) anyway, so I figured, why not? I was a good idea and I've enjoyed writing it. That's probably the only multi-chaptered prompt I'm willing to take, however. So, maybe I could give you an angsty Bill one-shot instead? I really am sorry if I've hurt you by denying your very valid and wonderful prompt, and I hope you can forgive me.**

 **Please don't feel put off, I'm still very willing to take prompts and such. Thank you so much and I hope you have a wonderful day.**

 **For those who would like to take this awesome person's amazing prompt, here it is in its fullness:**

When Bill said the Axolotl spell, the Axolotl formed him as a twin for Ford Pines, Stan. Bill was placed deep in Stan's subconscious, so Stan was not aware that he was apart of the Axolotl's plan to redeem Bill. Now Bill is reawakening in Stan's mind and has Stan's memories. He has learned a lot from being Stan and is no longer sure what he wants anymore. In the end, Bill does truly redeem, gives up his powers, and lives his life as Stan. (PS I want it implied that Ford has 6 fingers because it was the last bit of Bill's power used before he was placed in Stan's subconscious.)

 **See? Very good prompt. Someone, please adopt, because it needs a home and my house is already full of stangst.**

 **Ford: This...isn't a story.**

 **Stan: Yeah, we noticed.**

 **Ford: But...it's a place for stories?**

 **Stan: Yeah but the guest was...a guest and you can't send P.m's to guests...I thought you were the smart one?**

 **Ford: Excuse me! Just because I'm confused don't make me less intelligent than before!**

 **Stan: Grammar Stan.**

 **Ford *TRIGGERED AND READY TO JUST DIE ALREADY***

 **Yeah...sorry about the false update people. I hate it doing that, but I felt it was necessary. Maybe it wasn't, but I don't want any of you to feel ignored.**


	5. I get up at five am every morning

**Prompt from Loving dove: LOTS OF ANGST HOLY SNICKERDOODLE WHAT'S UP WITH THE ANGST PROMPTS. XD I love them! (Feel free to ramble at me, I'm equally guilty of many, many ramblings, so I can't judge.)**

 **Yeah, Loving dove, I don't think my heart could take a sad ending either, but let's do this! I'll put the full prompts at the bottom! Thanks for submitting! (I love these so much)  
**

* * *

Stanford watched as they all began glowing. The zodiac! It was working! He glanced at the last spot and turned his head. He noticed Stanley, standing arms crossed several feet away. When he realized Stan was the last one to complete the circle he held out his hand, the stern frown that seemed to always adorn his face chiseled deep and directed at Stan.

"Stanley, come here. You're the last one necessary." He gestured with his free hand to the spot beside him. He scowled when Stan hesitated.

"Now, Stanley."

Stan huffed but swiftly stepped forward and Ford snatched up his hand. Stan stared at their interlocked fingers as if they were something as confusing as a paradoxical question. After a moment his jaw clenched and he quickly looked away, staring pointedly at the ground.

Ford didn't notice, too busy watching the entire group with wide eyes. The zodiac continued to grow brighter. Everyone gasped as a loud echo boomed out, seemingly from where they were standing. They gazed at the scene around them as objects flew about, presumably returning to their natural state.

"NO! NO! WHAT'S HAPPENING!? STANFOOOOOOOORD!" Ford winced as Bill's shrill screeches echoed from outside.

It was too bad. He couldn't see Bill fade into oblivion from where he was standing. Although just the satisfaction of destroying him was enough for the moment, it would have been gratifying to watch his work do its magic. He laughed scathingly.

"Screw you, Bill!" Ford growled out. Suddenly the zodiac burst into a pure white light and everyone and everything was momentarily blinded.

It was over. The light faded and suddenly the entire circle was standing in the middle of a grove. It had worked! Ford quickly reclaimed his hands and reveled in his victory with the kids. Mabel was ecstatic.

"Grunkle Ford! You did it! The grass is back!" She suddenly fell to the ground and rolled in the fresh green grass of the grove they were in. Ford chuckled heartily. She was a strange one alright. Dipper was celebrating in a more reasonable way. If screaming at impossibly high pitches was considered 'reasonable.'

Stanley watched from the sidelines. Although Ford seemed to have already waved it away, it was bothering Stan to no end.

 _I just held my brother's hand for the first time in forty years and he doesn't even care. Why would he? Why would he ever care about me? Never had before._

Maybe it was weird. Maybe he should have felt happy. They just ended the apocalypse! He should be celebrating!

 _Stanford just ended the apocalypse. I was just a tool- as usual._

He watched as the others slowly started departing. Were the town still wrecked, they might have stayed together and worked on rebuilding, but fortunately the zodiac? Is that what Stanford had called it? Had returned everything to normal. Even the Shack had returned to its subpar state.

He reckoned Mcgucket might be a bit disappointed by that. He'd worked hard on that robot...thing. Stan sighed. Alright, so maybe he wasn't happy. What was new? He hadn't been happy before any of this happened anyway, so it wasn't like anything had really changed.

Nothing had changed. He was still a screw-up and a pack mule. The kids were leaving in two days and his brother still hated him. Right, back to life as usual then.

The ground was soft and the air warm. The birds were singing and everyone was elated, even Ford, who was laughing right along with the others. Stan stared at them with unshielded hopeless eyes, dark pits replacing the warm brown everyone was used too. They were used to Mr. Mystery. He was Stanley Pines at the moment.

It was strange how a smile and a mask was all one really needed to fool someone. As he lagged behind everyone, Stan thought about what he was going to do. As soon as the kids left, he'd be on his own again. The good thing is that he still had the StanelyMobile. The bad thing was that he didn't have any ID's he could use. Most of them he'd killed off, or were just wasn't valid as an option for him anymore. Maybe he could find one of his old pals. Surely he could just get a new one. A favor was a favor, after all, even thirty years later.

Soon everyone went their own ways and it was only Stan, Mabel, Dipper and Ford. The three in front of him were talking to one another and laughing. It was only then that Stan realized that Ford looked _exhausted_. To be expected, he supposed. At least Dipper and Mabel looked fine. That relieved some of the strain on his troubled mind, to know that the kids were okay. He would hate for their parents to think he'd put them in danger on purpose.

 _I'm not ever gonna see them again, am I?_

The thought made him stop in his tracks. It couldn't be true, could it? Stan's face, previously blank of any emotion, now had a small frown. How was he suppose to house the twins next summer if he didn't have a house? Didn't have a home?

 _You couldn't even pay to keep them at a hotel. You'll be out of a job by then._

He looked up at the kids, farther away now, looking happy and lively as they talked with their Grunkle Ford. Stan swallowed hard. Maybe...maybe it would be easier just to leave now. He glanced at the shack, now only a couple hundred feet away. If they went inside he could just hop in the car and make good on their deal right then and there.

 _But if you aren't gonna see the kids again..._

Better make the most of what time he did have left. Stan continued shuffling forward. He purposefully walked as slowly as he could. He needed time to get his act together before confronting the twins again.

Right before he walked into the house he looked down. His leg felt strange...

Well. That explained it. He had a large cut all along his right leg. Now, where on earth had that come from? He didn't know. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know. He swallowed again. The pain paled in comparison to how he felt emotionally, so he supposed it didn't really matter anyway.

 _Get it together, Pines._

...

Stanford was ecstatic! He couldn't believe it! Bill was finally gone. He was defeated. Bill's presence in his life had been so pressing before now, Stanford had felt it like a literal weight. At the moment he felt lighter than he had in years! It was as if he'd found himself on the moon, or had balloons tied to his soul, lifting him up. He thought that if he tried he could fly into the trees running off the high of joy that was running through him. Never had Stanford ever felt more accomplished.

It was amazing.

He and the kids couldn't stop laughing. He was quizzing them of their adventures at the moment, and they had some truly inspiring stories to tell. Before this, Mabel had asked him repeatedly if he was alright, and he assured her this was the best he'd felt in years. It was true, but he did know he was physically ill and should probably take care of himself later, but she didn't need to know that. He didn't want to ruin the mood either way.

He didn't even notice that Stan wasn't there, joining in their celebration. They entered the house, the three of them and by the time Stan had entered the shack himself, Ford had already sent the kids to bed. At that point, both kids had noticed Stan's absence, but Ford waved it off. He told them that Stan was just resting, just as they should be doing. Despite their complaining, they put up very little actual argument. Ford could see how exhausted both twins were.

"Goodnight Grunkle Ford." They chorused. He smiled.

"Goodnight children." He closed the door and sighed. He was tired himself. He could use a drink if he was being honest...

He walked off to the kitchen. A nightcap. That's all he needed.

When he entered the kitchen, he had to walk through the living room. He might not have stopped, were it not for the groan that echoed from the other side of the room. Ford tensed and swung around only to stop himself.

It was Stanley. He was in _his_ the armchair and doing...something. The chair was facing away from him. Ford cleared his throat.

Stan jerked out of the chair in surprise. He was on his feet for all of two seconds before abruptly falling to the floor. The fall resounded with a loud thud and Ford rolled his eyes. Stanley and his theatrics.

"Stanley, stop messing around. You're going to break something." He was about to turn away and leave for his nightcap, but something gave him pause.

There was no response. Not even a grunt. Stan always quipped something back to him. Ford wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, but he looked back around and his jaw _dropped._

Stan was...was...Ford could barely comprehend it.

Was Stanley _crying?!_ It just wasn't computing. What he could compute was the large swollen cut on Stan's leg.

"Stanley! Are you alright?" He walked, his long stride setting himself beside his brother in seconds. Stan didn't look at him as he answered. Instead, he held his leg and started pushing himself up with one hand.

"I-" Stan began before he fell again and Ford quickly caught him before he fell to the ground completely. He lifted him back into the chair carefully. Stan looked up at him with confused eyes, but an otherwise blank face. Tears ran down Stan's cheeks, going unnoticed by Stan himself. Ford felt a sense of dread boil up from his stomach. He kneeled down to get a closer look at the cut, unable to deal with the strange lack of emotion, yet so many at once on Stan's face.

Stan didn't move at all, but he did ask, "What are you doing?"

The question sounded more like an empty statement. The feeling in Ford's gut grew worse. He pulled something from his trenchcoat, and Stan watched on as Ford began bandaging his leg.

"I'm helping you, moron. This could get infected you know. It looks like you cut yourself on a piece of rock! What happened?" He glanced up from his work to discern Stan's reply, but he only shrugged.

"I have no idea. It doesn't hurt so bad though. Are you okay?" Stan asked. The inflection was dull, tired out. Ford tied off the bandage and stood up. He wasn't sure what to do.

Stan was still crying.

Something was wrong with Stanley.

Something was _emotionally_ _wrong_ with _Stanley_.

Okay, so maybe they'd been fighting, but Ford thought that they were going to talk and sort things out and everything was going to be _fine_. They would have to if they were going to be living together again! Sure, Ford wanted his name back, and that disgrace of science out of his house, but that wasn't unreasonable, was it? Those things were his things in the first place! He shouldn't have to ask for them back!

He just couldn't understand. Despite his deep hatred of anything and anyone diving into his thoughts, he wished he could read Stanley's mind. That would have made this a whole heck of a lot easier.

Stan was completely silent once more. Ford cleared his throat.

"I was going to have a nightcap...would you like to join me?" He asked awkwardly. He really wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Stan paled.

"You have alcohol?" Stan asked shakily. Ford frowned confusedly.

"Yes...?"

Stan shook his head vigorously. "Nope. I'm good." He shifted in his seat as if getting more comfortable. "I'm just gonna stay here if you don't mind-"

Ford couldn't hold back anymore. The question was still begging in his mind to be answered. "Stanley, why are you crying? I was just trying to help, would you like some pills instead? Does the cut hurt?" He asked uncertainly. He knew that the cause of his tears and the leg were in no way related, but a man could hope. The physical was easy. Stanford could fix something physical.

Mental was a little harder.

Stan's face hardened. He laughed, harsh and low. "Yeah, I'm great. Just dandy." He sneered. Despite not moving, he seemed to pull farther away.

"Just, go have your nightcap. I'm fine."

Okay, well even Stanford knew that was a lie. He sighed, eyes falling to the ground.

"Stanley, I don't know what's wrong-"

A scoff. Ford looked up again and Stan was glaring at him. Ford cocked a brow.

"What?"

"I'm fairly sure it's pretty obvious."

Ford frowned, "Your leg? You've already made it clear-"

A groaned. Stan was rubbing a tired hand over his face. "My freakin' leg doesn't matter, Stanford! It's about our deal!" He snapped. "I don't know what I'm gonna do! What, go back to being homeless?!"

Ford just stared at him. He knew very well what Stan was talking about and it hurt like someone had shot him in the heart.

Stan snapped at him again. "What?! Stop staring at me!"

Ford blinked. "You think..." Ford's face fell, " You think I'm kicking you out again?" He finished softly. Stan gave him a 'well, duh' look.

"You said you wanted your house back. You made not have made good on our deal, but that doesn't mean I'm backing out." He looked away. "I know you don't want me around..."

"No!" Ford shook his head and hands in tandem, eyes wide. "We've had a misunderstanding!"

Stan stayed silent. Ford took a deep breath as he continued.

"When I said I wanted my house back, I mean I wanted to be able to use it like I used to! I don't even have my old bedroom at the moment, and it's a bit bothersome. I didn't say I wanted you to leave!" He exclaimed. Ford couldn't believe he had to explain this. No wonder Stan had been so upset with him! What hurt the most was that Stan thought that Ford...that Ford would make Stan relive that day. Did Stan really think Ford was so cruel? Alright, so maybe Ford wasn't too excited to be living with his brother again, and maybe he had thought about Stan going and purchasing his own home somewhere else, but after the summer they'd had...Ford thought they were finally making progress?

He certainly hadn't been expecting this. The room was filled with silence as his words sunk in.

Shocked, tense silence. Stan couldn't believe it. Despite himself, a spark of help filtered through the black void and his voice cracked.

"You...don't want me to leave?" Ford could see the disbelief painted on Stan's face. He kneeled down to look Stan in the eyes.

"No. I never did."

Stan's bottom lip was trembling. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. He was still trying to comprehend the words that his brother had spoken when Ford acted on his instincts for once and wrapped Stan in a hug.

He just looked so sad and shocked. Ford really couldn't stop himself. He felt Stan stiffen and he moved away jerkily and looked away. He cleared his throat again.

"I'm sorry, I know we aren-" He cut off when Stan lunged out of the chair, leg be darned and returned the hug tenfold. Stan choked and sniffed.

"I really missed ya."

Ford smiled, but it was bittersweet. He curled his arms around Stan again and helped keep the weight off his leg.

"I missed you too, Stanley."

...

Later the twins would wake up to find that both their Grunkles had fallen asleep leaning against one another on the couch. Mabel squealed, rushed off to find her camera. Dipper smiled and followed her. They looked cold. They could probably use a blanket.

Stan and Ford both woke up covered in pillows and blankets. They both blinked confusedly until they noticed Mabel and Dipper's voices echo from the kitchen. As the events of yesterday rushed back to him, Ford glanced at Stan with concern.

Stan looked just fine. Other than looking a bit tired, he met Ford's frown with a small smile.

His eyes looked brighter. It was strange, how one conversation could change everything.

"Hey."

Ford quirked a brow. "Good morning." He lifted the edge of one pillow with two fingers. "Do you know the meaning of this?"

Stan shrugged. "Mabel, probably."

"She always does this?"

"Yeah, it's kinda her style, ya know. Like how you sleep on books."

Ford huffed and lightly (well, what he thought was light, he'd gotten a lot stronger over the years) punched Stan's shoulder. Stan laughed and rubbed his shoulder.

"I do not do that Stanley." Despite himself, Ford was smiling too now.

"Oh, now that's funny! Remember that one time you-" Stan rambled on and Ford settled back into the couch.

Bill was gone. His brother was back. He finally felt like he could relax.

What a strange notion. He liked it.

Snuggling deeper into the numerous pillows (how did they even have this many, wasn't she just staying for the summer?!) Stanford Pines sat and did...nothing. He talked to Stan, both of them taking some time to catch up properly until Mabel and Dipper reappeared with breakfast.

It may have look inedible, but Ford had and could eat almost anything, and Stan wasn't picky.

Ford didn't get a chance to frown again at all that day. He smiled happily. Everything was going to be okay.

* * *

 **Dah freak I just write. (It's unedited)**

 **Ahem.**

 **Anyway.**

 **Idk I binge wrote this like everything else XD so yeah. Prompt in its fullness:** during Weirdmageddon where Stan does hold Ford hand during their first plan to get rid of Bill. And Stan just looks conflicted and dead inside and doesn't look at Ford throughout the whole thing. Because he realizes he'll never get that thank you, and starts thinking about once this is all over, life will still be bad, well, for him at least, because he won't have the shack anymore, and he'll be alone again and other stuff. Ford doesn't pay that much attention until its all over, and he realizes why Stan is sad and tries to reassure him that that won't happen.

 **So that's that! From the wonderful Loving dove, I also have another angst prompt, but you'll be seeing that one later ;) Get ready for the angst train ya'll. Also, Side note, I'm still working on P.F.O.S (Pocket full of sunshine) But I'm going to post that in between the other prompts I receive. One, so that this story doesn't die, and two because I'm too lazy to make it its own story. :P**

 **This took so long to write, like AHHHHH, but it was worth it. Although, I apologize for the lazy ending to this one. Idk I'm not good at adding fluff to pure angst. Usuall,y I just start another chapter, so it's a bit easier, but yeah. Idk what I'm typing anymore, I'm tired. I'm going to go get my work done so I can wake up at five am again...ugh. Love ya! Don't die!**


	6. CUTE PROMPT

**CUTEST PROMPT EVER. : soos purposes to Melody in the most soos way possible. (Btw I'm typing this on my phone so please excuse any errors)**

* * *

Melody yawned as she walked down the stairs. The night before had been awful. Several of the customers couldn't control their children in the gift shop and she'd ended up with cuts all over her hands trying to pick up the glass they had broken.( A gnome had stolen their broom.) Some of the more stubborn parents had insisted it was somehow her fault and she had to try and keep them from doing anything too drastic.

Either way, it had been a rollercoaster of emotions. The entire time Soos had been running tours, so she had been all on her own.

She needed a cup of coffee.

She stumbled her way from her bedroom into the kitchen. After she'd moved into the Shack, she found that breakfast was either random snack foods or nothing at all. Unless, of course, she kept the fridge stocked and prepared something herself.

She stopped at the doorway when a wall of scents hit her straight in the face. She stared, amazed at the usually sticky and barren table.

It was piled high with pancakes and... dinosaur chicken nuggets? She giggled.

"Hey, girlfriend carino!" Soos smiled happily from the stove. "Breakfast!" He stated simply. She nodded.

"Heh, breakfast indeed!" She giggled again, "did I forget a birthday or something?" She sat down excitedly. There was even her favorite coffee (so sweet it rots your teeth) sitting by a plate at her seat.

Soos shook his head and sat down across from her. "Nah. Just thought it was a good idea since I wanted to ask you somethin' today!"

She rolled her eyes. "Buttering me up to do something for you, is it?" She grinned. "Well as long as you're feeding me I guess I'm all for it."

Soos laughed with an excited bucked tooth grin of his own. "So you'll Marry Me?"

Melody choked on the pancake that had been trying to go down her throat and gasped. "WHAT?!"

Soos' face fell. "Is that a yes or no because I really can't tell."

She squealed and stood up from her seat, the chair flying backwards as she flung herself into his arms. "YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES!"

He chuckled. "Well that went better than expected."

"I wanna adopt a dog."

"You got it, wife carino."

* * *

 **In Spanish, ''carino" means "sweetie".**

 **Idk I couldn't think of anything better so...**

 **I know this was short but I was multitaking and I'm doing this on my phone, so I hope you'll forgive me.**

 **Thank you annon for this wonderful request! I apologize for those waiting on the other prompts and for those I haven't even started yet :( I'll get to yours soon! Thanks for being so patient with me.**


	7. MORE FLUFF

**XD. Are you the same Anon with the soos prompts? Because these are amazing.**

* * *

Stanley sniffed and turned away. Stanford patted his back soothingly.

Melody was walking down the isle, Mabel holding up the trailing fabric and simultaneously throwing flowers everywhere. (It's graviy falls, weddings don't have to make sense)

Soos was waiting patiently besides the mayor of the town, who was the only one qualified to marry anyone.

Lazy Susan burst into tears and had to be escorted out.

Soos' abuelitua was thinking about how she was under no obligation to look after Soos anymore and was wondering what she was going to do for the rest of her life.

Dipper stood quietly smiling besides his friend, holding the plate that held two ring pops.

Soos had a real ring waiting for Melody. She just didn't know it yet.

The music slowly came to a stop as Melody stood right next to Soos, facing him with a large grin. Stan nearly sobbed. Not that he would admit to it.

The music cut off and the ceremony started. The mayor cleared his throat.

"We're here to bind these to together forever and possibly longer! Does anyone object?" The mayor gazed at each one of the crowd members. No one moved.

He smiled and continued. "Well in that case, let's give this girl her ring!"

Melody looked to the ring pops but Dipper laughed. "I'm a diversion."

Wendy stepped up from behind her and grinned. "I think this is yours." She held up a glittering ring. The edge was encrusted with tiny, glittering, multicolored gems, that threw rainbows when caught in the light. Melody gasped and her hands slapped over her mouth in surprise. Soos laughed.

"You can't wear it if your hand is over your mouth Carino."

Tears were welling in her eyes and she slowly let her hand down so Soos could slip it on her finger.

Of course it was a perfect fit. She didn't have the words. The mayor giggled.

"I now pronounce you man and woodpe- I mean wife." The crowd laughed and he smiled apologetically.

"KISS THE BRIDE ALREADY." Mabel shrieked. Soos laughed and before he'd stopped laughing, Melody had beat him to it. Stan and Ford whisleted from the crowd and everyone else cheered, all of them standing.

Needless to say, it had been awhile since Gravity Falls had seen a proper wedding.

They broke apart and Soos blinked. "I'm married now."

Melody laughed, tears running down her face. She was too.

She knew she would never regret this day. They turned and mingled with the crowd. They had a cake to eat.

* * *

 **Anyway, I have to be up at 5 again. See ya, I'm gonna go sleep. XD**


	8. So like- pure angst?

**Hey! How's about some angst? Tw: Angst! XD sorry, I'm like doing these all out of order. If I haven't gotten to you yet, don't fret! I shall!  
**

* * *

Second thoughts were the bane of his life.

Fiddleford bit his nails nervously and looked up from his desk, where he'd been pouring over some last minute calculations. He had been thinking that maybe this wasn't such a great idea. Ever since starting on the project, Stanford wasn't the same. He worked hours unfit for proper human function, which wasn't that worrying in and of itself. Stanford had never really been a sound sleeper.

No, it wasn't that. He had been acting...strange. Strange in a way that made Fiddleford question if he even knew his friend. It didn't help that he could have sworn that Stanford's eyes looked yellow at times. Almost like a cat's. Fiddleford shivered at the mere thought. It wasn't natural.

Nothing about this place was _natural_. He had regretted coming here since the Gremoblin but had stayed at Stanford's urging. He had insisted that Fiddleford would be fine.

Stanford said he had looked into the beast's eyes himself. It wasn't that bad he said. Fiddleford shuddered when he'd said that. Not that bad? Was watching- watching-

He shook his head. He didn't want to dwell on it. He blinked and focused back onto his original train of thought.

The portal was dangerous. It had to be! Stanford was acting like a mad scientist, had possibly _become_ a mad scientist and the portal itself...it gave him chills. It was cold and menacing and towered over him in a way that made him want to curl up and hide. It couldn't possibly be safe! Where would the vortex open up to anyway? Whose to say it didn't open into someplace, somewhere dangerous? They were putting their entire planet at risk and Stanford refused to tell anyone!

Whose to say it wouldn't end the world? Fiddleford had to stop chewing on his nails, seeing as there wasn't any nail left. He wrung out his hands and tried to ease himself, to relax. So maybe that was a bit dramatic. Stanford had explained what it was all for! Didn't he? It was for science, for innovation. For discovery. Those were good things, weren't they?

But if this was for a good cause, why was there a knot twisting in his stomach? Fiddleford had good instincts. He trusted them.

He just didn't know how to act on them.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. What was he going to do?

"Fiddleford? Are you down here?"

Jumping from the relaxed position he had forced himself into, Fiddleford choked on his words before clearing his throat to speak. "O'er here, Stanferd!"

Stanford was running down the stairs, papers flying every which way behind him. His smile was bright and energetic. Fiddleford marveled at it. How did someone who took so little care of themselves manage such outbursts of energy? He straightened his back out as Stanford drew near.

This needed to end. He knew it. He just needed Stanford to know it too.

"Fiddleford! I finally have it! Or, I think I do. I need you to run a few tests for me..." He rambled on and Fiddleford cleared his throat once more. He stopped and looked up, letting his hand holding the paper he'd been flailing around drop to his side.

"Fiddleford? What is it?" Stanford smiled encouragingly and Fiddleford felt himself wince internally. He steeled himself up to speak his mind. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes.

"I don' want ta test the portal, Stanferd." He felt his body slump as he finally got the words past his throat. He opened his eyes and gazed at Stanford apologetically.

"It's dangerous. I don' know what ya've been gettin' yerself inta, but I don' want none of it!" He exclaimed. His face fell. "Stanferd...ya've been actin' strange and jus' lookin' at the darn thing gives me the willies. I-I don' know who ya are any more an' I don' know what ta do."

Stanford blinked. Then he slowly started laughing. "Oh! Oh, this is a joke, right? Fiddleford! We're starting our test trial in three days time! You can't bail _now._ That's ridiculous." He frowned thoughtfully. "You were joking, weren't you?"

Fiddleford mentally screamed, but sighed and smiled tiredly. "Yes. I was jokin' with ya. What were these papers ya wanted me ta look at?"

 _'O course he thought I was jokin' with 'im. I've been workin' on this thang since the beginnin'. Tha' an' he hasn't been right in the head. Not since I showed up._

Fiddleford squared his shoulders as Stanford walked out, mumbling under his breath. He would just have to take matters into his own hands.

...

"No...no, tha' wouldn't work." Fiddleford scratched off telling the government off his list. I mean, who would believe him? That and Stanford was the only one with the password to the basement. So he couldn't show any government official behind Stanford's back either.

Fiddleford used to know it, but Stanford had changed it one night and still hadn't given it to him. Anyway, he didn't want to be labeled as insane.

Because it was. Everything about this place, everything he was doing was _insane._ He sighed. The simplest way he could imagine getting this all behind them both was to...

erase the memory of it all. His eyes widened and he ducked down to open a secret drawer in his desk. He pulled out a peculiar looking gun. It almost looked like a kids toy.

It was anything but. A couple turns of the dial and a press of the trigger and this weapon could make the person on the receiving end forget _anything._ He stared at it as he thought. Stanford thought the gun was dangerous. That it could cause who knows how many side effects. That it was dangerous in the wrong hands. That it was _morally wrong._ Fiddleford scoffed at the mere thought. Stanford couldn't berate him on ethics. Not when he had a giant poly-dimensional meta-vortex sitting in his basement that no one knew about.

Still...

Fiddleford only wanted to use the gun if participants were willing. He had already used it on himself once. Unfortunately, Stanford had brought that memory back easily enough. Either way, he knew it was safe. He hadn't fallen ill or anything! His mind was still sharp as a tack. There were no side effects he could see.

No, he just didn't want to use it if the person he used it on wasn't willing. Stanford had vehemently argued against the existence of the gun altogether. He definitely wouldn't agree to have his memory wiped and leave this all behind him.

Just thinking about double-crossing his friend again made him shake. Stanford had been furious when he'd used the gun on himself, and the entire crew of people who had helped them create the portal. But Stanford was being unreasonable! It would have taken them years to construct the portal themselves, and Stanford didn't want to let anyone on the outside know about it. So, Fiddleford had created a solution, one that worked out perfectly well if he did say so himself.

Everything was too much. On one hand, Stanford obviously couldn't be convinced. On the other...

He couldn't do it. He was afraid of the portal, yes, but Fiddleford hated hurting his friends even more. He gritted his teeth and his hand flew against the dial of the gun. He stopped and stared at it a moment before putting it to his head. It read:

 _Second thoughts._

He pressed the trigger.

 _I'm sorry, Stanferd  
_

* * *

 **:P is this what you wanted? I'm too lazy to fix it, so I hope it makes sense. Basically, Fiddleford, rather than rat out his friend or double-cross him, erased the memory of his doubts. He forgot he even had a problem with the portal in the first place.**

 **It didn't work, obviously. He still ended up falling through the portal and ditching Stanford altogether. Anyway! I hope this made sense! We should have some bittersweet fluff next, so stay tuned!**


	9. No sense this makes

**This story is the second prompt from Loving Dove I promised. Thank you all for your wonderful ideas and support! I know I haven't been posting much...just bear with me will ya? Yer girl is feelin' down.  
**

* * *

Today felt...off.

Stan clomped irritatedly down the stairs and into the kitchen. He hated these days. The days where nothing seemed to satisfy or please him. It was as if the universe had just _decided_ he was going to be angry that day. For no reason whatsoever. He sighed as he started setting up the coffee pot.

Deep breathe in and out. It was going to be fine. He was _fine._

It wasn't like he had a reason to be upset anyway. The day before had been profitable, and the kids weren't up to anything _too_ dangerous, so it had been a good day in his opinion. No one had called in sick or complained incessantly and he had managed to avoid any and all emotional confrontation with his newly returned brother.

A good day indeed. So why did he have this feeling of unease? All his nerves were on edge as if he would snap at any moment. It was unbearable, so of course, he would just have to bear with it until it passed.

It always did, eventually.

He picked up his coffee and settled himself at the kitchen table, trying to be content in scanning through the newspaper. It was still early in the morning, so he was the only one up.

Maybe he just didn't sleep well that night. That could explain it. Either way, he was all alone.

The minutes ticked by and Stan swore he could feel time speeding up until he'd have to go get ready for work. Too soon, the clock read seven a.m and he groaned as he stood up from the table. Mr. Mystery was supposed to be in business in less than an hour.

Half-an-hour later, Stan returned from his bedroom to the main level of the house. Voices bounced off the walls and he glanced into the kitchen to see both Mabel and Dipper sitting at the table. He thought about going in and saying hi before starting his day, but he could just _feel_ everything in him was waiting for a reason to lash out. Not good, since he needed all his charm for work that day. He turned away towards the shop without a word.

Opening up the door to his shop, he stopped in surprise, eyes wide.

Stanford ran past him, barely managing to avoid crashing into Stanley as he chased after something small, green, and very loud. Stan grimaced at the noise the creature was making as Ford chased it around the room.

Stan watched as Ford managed to corner it on the other side of the room and full on tackled it, crackling sparks flying from where they were fighting. Ford eventually stood up, panting and smiling proudly as he held up a burnt and smoking...something.

"Ha! Gotcha! Stanley, look at this!" He excitedly wrung the limp and most probably dead creature from side to side, "It's a cycloptipus!" He stepped out from the corner he was in and started going off about something. Stan didn't have it in him to listen.

He was _ticked._ How was Stan supposed to start work when half of his shop was demolished?! Ford had full on ran across his counter! An entire rack of shirts had fallen over, and papers had flown every which way. He didn't know what the papers consisted of, but they were probably important! He crossed his arms and growled.

"Yeah, that's great Stanford. Now get out." He stated grumpily. Ford blinked out of his monologue and raised a brow.

"Stanley?"

Stan shot him a glare and started picking up papers. "Yeah, you heard me. I have to open in fifteen minutes and you just trashed my gift shop!" he snapped. Gosh, was Ford really that blind?!

Ford himself crossed his arms with a scowl. "Well, that's no need to get short with me." He held up the corpse again, "This creature is dangerous! What did you want me to do, leave it?"

"I want you to _not_ trash my shop fifteen minutes before opening!" He shot back. "and why couldn't you have, I dunno, fought it somewhere else?!" He straightened up from his bent position on the floor, where he'd been trying to clean up. Ford scoffed,

"I wasn't making it run towards your shop Stanley. That's just where we ended up! You're being unreasonable."

Wrong choice of words. Stan stiffened. His voice was low, a near whisper as he responded. Every ounce of self-control he had left had been washed away. Suddenly he was back standing on the street, staring up at a window.

"No, Stanford. Unreasonable is letting your twin go out on his own at seventeen. Unreasonable is accusing someone of something without letting him explain all the way through. "

He was standing outside Ford's house. "Unreasonable is ten years out on your own only to be called back like some sort of dog. Unreasonable is breaking promises and punching your brother over a book." He was standing, waiting with open arms. " Unreasonable is not thanking said brother when even after _all_ of this he spent _thirty years_ to bring you back and then punching him _again_. Now tell me, who is the unreasonable one here?"

Stan was shaking as the force of his words came crashing down. Anger was coursing through him. He wanted to scream, to punch something. He didn't, _couldn't_ , let himself move as he waited for an answer.

"Stanley. Stop this ridiculousness, you know that isn't what happened." Ford's words were condescending, a huff of impatience followed. "Either way, we weren't talking about that. You've completely derailed from the topic."

Stan suddenly felt drained. He didn't even roll his eyes at the hypocritical sentence Ford had just uttered. Like he hadn't ever completely derailed from a topic before. Instead, he just let his stiff posture fall into a slump.

"Yeah? And what were we talking about?" He muttered, not really wanting nor expecting an answer.

"We were discussing your thoughtless outburst-" Ford cut off when Stan growled.

"My outburst? No, we were talking about what _you_ did. You aren't even capable of seeing your own faults, are you?! Not when I'm involved! Whenever I'm here, it's always my fault!" Stan threw his hands in the air as he stomped closer, eyes narrowed. "Oh no! Look! My foot's on fire! Well, Stan's in the other room, so it must be _his_ fault!" Stan pointed an accusing finger at Ford, "You have never been able to even comprehend that maybe I'm not always the bad guy."

Ford was enraged now. His mind had gone on the defensive, words coming to his mind too quickly for him to stop them before they left his mouth. He let the corpse fall to the ground as he stepped forward himself. "My faults? _My faults?_ I'm not the one who messed up during high school!" Ford snarled at him, "At least I had something going for me, something you had to go and ruin!" He took a deep breath, "I'm not a barnacle scraping screw up, a two-faced criminal whose only ever cared about himself!"

The words took a moment to sink in. Ford panted as the true meaning behind them made itself known to him and his face was slowly overtaken by surprise. That...that wasn't true. That wasn't what Ford had meant to say.

Unfortunately, the deed was done. Stan stared at him for only a moment, a look of betrayal in his eyes as he turned and left abruptly. Ford didn't follow him.

 _He...just needs to blow off steam. He'll be fine._ Ford assured himself. _He's fine._

...

Stan was not fine. Tears welled up in his eyes soon after the words had been uttered. Well, more like screamed. He hoped to dear Odin that the kids hadn't heard them.

At least the anger was gone. Only replaced by an entire life's worth of self-deprecation and doubt. Had Ford always thought that of him? Is that why he hadn't defended Stan when the principal had said those things about him?

 _Are you kiddin'? At this rate, he'll be lucky to graduate high-school! No, Stanford is the kid goin' places, that's for sure!_

Thoughts of old failures and past doubts snuck back into his mind, his chest shooting with a pain that felt almost physical as he made his way to his room.

It had been _years_ since Stanley had cried. At all. The last time a tear had made it past Stan Pines' eyelids, he had a gun pointed to his head, bottles of beer littered the floor.

It had been a long, long time ago. Crying was a waste of time, usually.

He shut the door and locked it. No one saw Stan Pines at all the rest of that day.

...

Stanford, after Stan had left, did what he usually did. He repressed it. Shoved it way down deep inside his soul and ignored it. Instead of thinking about the scene that had just played out, he picked up the specimen once more and made his way to the basement. He had work to do.

Hours passed. He eventually arose from the depths of the basement for dinner, only to find Mabel and Dipper eating alone. He approached the table skeptically.

"Dipper? Mabel?"

They both looked up, wide-eyed. Dipper nearly choked.

"Great-uncle Ford! What are you-" He began. Mabel snickered and finished his sentence for him.

"doing upstairs!? Do you want some food!?" She asked brightly. Ford smiled at each of them, although you could see the faint worry behind it. His hands were held behind his back as he spoke.

"Well, yes, but at the moment I was just wondering why you two were alone. You, ahem. Haven't happened to see Stan around, have you?" He asked hesitantly. Both twins shook their head in tandem.

Dipper's brow furrowed. "Ya know, I don't actually remember seeing him at all today."

Mabel nodded, "Me too. But we did go out to hang out with Grenda and Candy earlier, so maybe that's why." she added.

Ford's own brows furrowed. This did not bode well. From what little he'd seen of Stan's relationship with the twins', he loved hanging out with them, and wouldn't miss a chance to talk to either one. He tried to shake off the feeling as he explained away his concern and made himself a plate. So maybe Stan was taking longer to shake off their fight than Ford had previously thought necessary, but that's fine. It didn't mean anything was, _wrong_ or anything. Although, he was extremely glad to find that neither child knew of their argument earlier.

He did his best to forget it completely as he left the room once again to go and continue his work. Stan was probably just busy that day. He had jumped down Ford's throat about his work earlier. Yes. That was it. Stan was _fine._ He went downstairs and didn't show his face again until the next day.

Ford pushed open the vending machine door and stepped out into the gift shop. He'd half-expected to see Stanley standing outside the door, waiting for him. Although that didn't make much sense. As much as he tried to consciously ignore it, something was nagging him in the back of his mind.

The sooner Ford got at least a glance of Stan, the better. He quickly closed the door to the basement and stepped out, intending to see if Stan had started a tour yet. It was late morning, but the gift shop was always the last place on the tour, so he figured it wasn't implausible that Stan had already begun working. He made his way quietly down the hall. He couldn't risk anyone seeing him just yet.

Two Stan Pines might raise some uncomfortable questions. He peered around the corner and frowned.

It was empty.

The shop was never _empty_. Not before closing hours anyway. It was half the reason Ford couldn't come up during the day, he couldn't risk it usually.

Was it strange that the feeling of unease wasn't dissipating?

Gosh, Ford hated emotions. And wasn't that a paradox if he'd ever heard one. He sighed and turned away. Nothing was going to be solved or finished until he'd figured out where Stan went.

...

Stanley sat at the edge of the river, staring down at the depths of the rushing water with empty eyes.

After staying hold up in his room for the rest of that night, he had started to feel suffocated. He needed fresh air. Unfortunately, he also knew that if anyone saw him they would ask questions. Ones he wasn't capable of answering. He was supposed to be a grumpy old man, not some depressed teen. So, he'd snuck out his window. Easy enough despite the height. He supposed he'd have to thank Mabel for 'curing' him of his fear of heights anyway.

He was now calmly sitting at the edge of the water, mulling over everything that had happened. He knew he shouldn't have lashed out like he had. It wasn't Ford's fault he had been upset. He didn't even know _why_ he had been upset in the first place! Sometimes Stan hated how he couldn't explain himself. Couldn't explain his heart. Not that anyone thought he had one. Well, that had been the plan anyway. The kids obviously thought he was some sort of big marshmallow man. Mabel had said something to that extent herself.

Ford didn't think so though. He knew exactly what Stan was. A selfish jerk who never looked outside of their- _his_ dreams. Stan kicked at the water with his foot. His shoes sat on the bank beside him. He thought about what he'd said the other day. About Ford being unreasonable. Was all that true? Or was Stan just saying things in the heat of the moment? He wasn't sure.

He didn't know what to believe anymore. He groaned and loosened his collar as he fell back and looked at the sky through the trees. The light filtered through the leaves, soft and harmless. It was a nice day out. You could just barely see the leaves slowly turning from green to brown. Autumn was fast approaching. The thought made Stan frown. The kids would be gone soon and then Stan would be on the road again.

Maybe Ford wasn't sticking to his end of the deal, but that didn't mean Stan was going to stick around after the summer ended. He wasn't sure he would want to, not if Ford didn't want him around anyway. It really wasn't that unreasonable, when he thought about it. Stan had taken his home, his name, his livelihood. Of course, Ford would want it all back. Stan couldn't blame him for that.

Really, he couldn't. He didn't exactly like it when his entire future had been flushed away, stolen from him in a single moment.

Perhaps this was karma. Stan said 'screw the universe' so the universe said it right back. Only, the universe actually did it. He sighed deeply and stared at the leaves, watching the sky dim as the day flew by.

...

Stanley wasn't anywhere! He'd even forced his way into Stan's bedroom when knocking incessantly yielded no results. It had been empty. Although, the StanelyMobile still sat in the driveway, so he had to be around! Ford growled at nothing and everything as he gave himself whiplash, running so fast through the house, ducking into every corner.

Maybe it was silly, but Ford could distinctly remember Stan hiding away once. It had been years ago, but it had been a bad day for both of them. Stan had hidden after a particular nasty chewing out from their father. It took what felt like forever to find him again.

Stan was good at hiding. He'd proven that. Ford turned a corner and very nearly knocked over Mabel, who was trying to enter the kitchen. She screamed and fell back and Ford unthinking shot his arm out to catch her.

She landed in his arms and Ford blinked. "Are you alright, Mabel?" Her eyes widened.

"Grunkle Ford! I'm great! Where were you going?" She asked, blinking questioningly at him. He sighed in relief and let her go. She steadied herself and repeated the question.

Ford sighed. "Mabel...me and Stanley had an argument the other day and now I can't seem to locate him."

"Oh." She frowned. "Well, maybe he just went to Vegas again!" She laughed. "He did that once. We had a bet."

Ford gaped. "Stan ran off to Vegas with you here all by yourselves?!"

She laughed again. Did she do anything else? "No, silly! We had Soos! And Wendy. It was like a sleepover!" She bounced excitedly but quickly dimmed again.

"But...ah. Maybe we should go find him." She took Ford's hand and pulled him a long with her.

...

Dipper eventually joined their search. At this point, all three of them had checked the town, the entire house one more time, and we're now wandering through the woods, yelling out his name.

As they walked, Ford was being torn up by anxiety. The woods we're dangerous and there was no telling how long Stan had been gone!

 _Come on, Stanley. Where are you?_

...

Stan sat up. The sky was darkening enough that he might not be able to see soon, and he still needed to make it home. He hoped the kids were alright. He grunted as he stood and shook the leaves from his pants and shirt. If it weren't for the fact that he had at least tour other suits, he might've been upset about how filthy it had gotten.

Instead he shook off the dirt and started walking. His stomach was empty (just like his heart) and he used the pain as motivation to keep on moving. Although, he might not have moved at all if it weren't for the kids.

Ford wasn't a moron, in fact he was a genuis, just not when it came to care of himself and or others. The kids needed someone a bit (if only a bit) more responsible than Stanford.

The trees seemed to make it darker faster and his eyes were having a hard time adjusting. Fortunately, he knew the woods like he knew how to forge a document. It was like second nature to jump that root and avoid the rock that wasn't actually a rock. He only stumbled when .He heard a strange noise. It was deep and gutteral a d far too close for comfort.

 _What is..?_

His eyes widened.

 _Crap._

 _..._

Stan wasn't sure how he ended up in Gremoblin territory.

He didn't really care either.

Time passed by slowly as he sat against a tree, completely incapable of moving. The creature had pounced from behind, getting Stan on the arm with the tips of its claws before Stan could jump away. They fought for what was a brief moment, although it seemed like forever. Stan's arms were torn up and bloody, but fortunately he protected his torso well enough. Although his back was gonna bruise. And of course, his knuckles were cut up, but that was normal.

That was the worst part really, I mean, he'd already been through his worst nightmare.

It seemed a little peeved that Stan wasn't afraid. What was Stan going to do? Get another fear so the Gremoblin could feed off him easier? That wasn't how it worked. At least, not how it should work.

He sighed. He wasn't sure how long he'd been bleeding against this tree, but it had been long enough. He was officially sick of being paralyzed, he was sick of this Forest, sick of himself.

Did anyone even notice he was gone? The thought popped abruptly into his mind and refused to leave. He felt the hopelesssness rise up inside of him once more.

"Stanley!"

"Grunkle Stan!"

The voices were faint, but Stan blinked in shock as they continued to call out. It took him a moment to realize he was supposed to answer.

Should he?

He shook the thought away. He'd already been through this, the kids needed him.

 _Or maybe you need them._

He snarled at his head to shut up. It didn't matter. He opened his mouth and tried to call out. Instead he ended up coughing until his throat was sore. He winced as he finally managed to call out.

Yeesh, how much worse-

No. That was one cliche he wasn't putting himself through. He called out again, this time a bit louder.

"KIDS!" He coughed into his hand. Wait.

His hand! He could move!

Kinda. His legs, last to freeze up, we're also last to regain their movement. He pushed himself up with his arms and called out again and again.

It was like they had been walking in the opposite direction of where Stan was sitting. What felt like hours went by before an answering call came back to him.

"GRUNKLE STAN!"

Stan grinned. Mabel sounded so...mabely.

How could he ever want to leave those two? He called out again. "MABEL! OVER HERE PUMPKIN!" Stan's head flung around to the sound of bushes and sticks cracking beneath feet.

"Stanley!?"

Stan flinched. Ford was here too?

At least the kids would be safe with him. He didn't like the thought of them wandering around the woods on their own at night.

He just wasn't sure if he could face Stanford just then.

 _Get it together. You can't avoid him completely. No matter how happy that would make him._

He laughed with a partially false relief as Dipper and Mabel came crashing towards him. He opened up his arms and held them both as they talked his ear off. Something about worrying them.

He murmured apologies in between their words.

"Sorry kids. I'm sorry. Are you two alright?"

Dipper looked up and frowned. "Are we alright? Are you alright!? What- your arms! You aren't alright! What happened?"

Stan opened his mouth to answer when he heard something from a few feet away. A cough. He glanced towards the noise.

Stanford was standing to the side, giving him a helpless look. Theyet eyes and Stan quickly looked away.

"Heh .it was nothin'. I kicked that things green furry butt. I ah...just can't get up. He got me with that weird paralyzing stuff. I can barely move my toes. I'll be fine kids. "

Mabel smiled trustingly. "Yay! Creepy Forrest hang out until Grunkle Stan can move!" She was stilling hugging him, even after Dipper moved away to sit beside him.

"I could carry you back to the Shack, Stanley."

Stan stiffened. Ford had finally spoken up. It took him. Moment to process the words. He looked at Ford dibeliveingly and Ford crossed his arms.

"You don't believe me?" Ford asked. Although his posture seemed like he was asking for a fight, his tone was light.

Almost .. playful. That was weird. Stan shook his head.

"Did you just call it the Shack?" Stan raised a brow. Ford cleared his throat.

"Oh. Um...yes? Well, it's what everyone calls it and I suppose-"

Stan sound was hollow in his own ears, but Ford looked relieved. He wasn't sure what Ford was up too, but he wasn't going to start another argument.

He didn't have it in him to argue anymore.

"So...is that a yes?" Ford asked uncertainly. Mabel and Dipper watched on with curious eyes.

Stan's insides squirmed at the thought of being in Ford arms. He remembered carrying Ford everywhere when they were younger, but now it just seemed wrong.

"No. It's an 'Im confused"." Stan stated. He glanced at the kids once, hoping they didn't notice how tired he sounded. He sighed.

"I can just barely move my legs. Why don't you guys head to the Shack and I'll follow you?"

Both kids immediately rejected this plan, and surprisingly, so did Ford.

"We just found you!"

"You're injured, Stanley."

The immediate cries rejecting his idea was overwhelmingly confusing. He shook his head. "Okay okay! Ford, give me a leg up, will ya? If you aren't gonna leave me, your gonna have to walk with me."

Stan held out his arm and Ford stepped forward to grab we're linked for only a brief moment but Stan realized something.

That was the first non-violent interaction they'd had in over forty years.

He shook off the thought and forced a grin on his face.

"Thanks. Alright, let's get you two to bed, shall we?"

...

The walk home was long and arduous. Stan's legs shook most of the way, and he nearly fell several times. He managed to catch himself, but he noticed Ford had reached out, as if in reflex. His brow furrowed.

Ford was acting...strange. He was being _nice._

It was throwing Stan for a loop. This went beyond keeping up the act for the kids, he seemed genuinely concerned!

Stan ignored it. It didn't matter. _He_ didn't matter. Ford could do whatever he liked. Maybe he just wanted to keep the kids happy as much as Stan did.

It didn't matter. He kept on walking, kept on smiling. They would make it home soon enough.

...

Ford frowned when they finally made it home. Stan he sent the kids to bed as soon as possible. They objected but he argued right back and they eventually left. But only after Mabel gave him one last, glittery, hug. She ran up the stairs, and Dipper gave him a peculiar look before following her.

That boy was too smart for his own good. Stan sighed and turned away from the hallway, only to see Ford was still their.

Stan blinked. Oh.

He kinda expected Ford to have already disappeared into the basement. Although maybe he shouldn't have. It had been a strange last few days.

Ford gazed at him with that serious frown of his and gestured with one hand at Stan's arms. "Does it hurt?"

Stan glanced at his torn up arms and stared at Ford with confused eyes. "I'm fine." He turned so he could leave for the kitchen, he was more hungry than anything, but Ford stopped him

He stepped out in front of Stan. "You should really bandage that first, it could get infected," he held out a hand, as it he expected Stan to hand over his arm for inspection. When Stan didn't move, Ford sighed and took stand arm himself.

Stan flinched and Ford froze only for a moment. He quickly scanned his eyes over Stan's arm as he tried to judge what sort of wrapping it would need, or if they needed stitches.

Ford hummed in satisfaction. "Alright, well, you don't need stitches. I'll be right back. Stay here." Ford turned quickly and ran up towards the gift shop.

He turned and ran down the stairs, flying towards his desk. He had a first aid kit somewhere. He found it and ran back up the stairs and through the Shack to find Stan standing right where Ford had left him.

Oh. Well, good. Ford stepped forward. "Stanely?"

Stan jumped and looked at Ford quickly before shifting away. "Hey." Stan said simply.

Ford's brow furrowed and he frowned. Stan really was acting strange. But, so was Ford, he supposed. "Greetings. Can you please go sit down? Your arm needs to be attended to."

Stan didn't look at him at all as he shook his head. " Nah. I told you I'm fine. Just...leave the kit and go to bed, will ya?"

His words were innocent enough. The tired, monotone tone they were delivered with were not. Ford stepped in front of him.

"No."

Stan glanced up at him with a frown. "Okay Ford. I'm done. What are you doing?" He crossed his arms, which made Ford hiss in sympathy. It must have hurt. He didn't seem to notice however. "You're acting weird, weirder than usual and I want to know why."

Ford stared at Stan's face with a look of utter uncomprehension. "What do you mean, I've been acting weird!? Stanley! You're the one who went missing for nigh on two days time and skipped out on work and haven't been smiling-" Ford cut himself off. He shoved his hands into his trenchcoat.

"I'm worried about you. What's so strange about that?" Ford asked softly.

Stan gaped at him. "What's strange about that!? Are you hearing yourself!? You stopped caring about me the day I got kicked out. As soon as i had more cons than pros you let me get thrown away like the trash I am." Stan gritted his teeth and stopped himself from going on. He turned away.

"Nevermind. It doesn't matter." He started walking out.

Ford was frozen on his feet. Stan couldn't possibly think that was true. Could he?

 _Look! It's the freaky nerd and his even more useless brother!_

 _That moron? He'd be lucky if he got to graduate high school!_

 _Your brother has been nothing but a useless screw up. I say good riddiance to him._

Ford's gaze followed Stan's retreating form and he ran forward right into it, wrapping his arms around Stanely from behind. Stan yelled out and growled.

"Gah! What are you doing?!"

Ford rested his head on Stan's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

Stan was silent. Ford cleared his throat but he didn't let go. He thought about how much Stan had done for him.

"Thank you, Stanley."

Stan went rigid and Ford nearly let go when Stan turned and lunged right back into the embrace.

He sniffed. "I'm sorry too, sixer."

Ford laughed. "Well, I suppose we do have something in common then."

* * *

XD **I honestly have no idea if any of this makes sense XD**

 **It might not . I've been working on this inconsistently for the last few weeks *insert cry/ laugh emoji" I HATE WRITING ON MY PHONE BUT THAT'S LIFE. Anyway, pls tell me if this sucked, because I want to know. And I hope you'll forgive me for my updating schedule. (XD I don't even remember how this fic starts tbh XD)**


	10. THIS IS FILLER FOR ALL MY OTHER STUFF

**PFFFFFT. YA'LL I'M DEAD. I HAVE DIED. Alrighty, Miss Mystery, I got a bone to pick with you. Thanks! I'm honored that you creepily read all my stories! (I'm joking it's not creepy, just nice to know someone likes 'em so much) XD. Anyway, you are ALL welcome to review as much as you want. You can even rant angrily at me. Unless I was the one who angered you in which case rant at someone else.**

 **XD I get distracted too easily. I got two prompts kinda? Miss Mystery {HI!} left three reviews and one dictated that she just wanted Mystery trio (I hope your homework isn't drowning you) and the other was much more in-depth. UM. I HAVE NO TIME RN I SHOULD STOP RAMBLING. ON WITH THE RANDOM MYSTERY TRIO.  
**

 **Btw sorry about yer other prompts guys. I just received these reviews a couple something idk ago and I just wanted to write somethin' quick before gettin' back ta work.**

 **UM. I would also appreciate no swearing in the reviews? PLEASE? Thank you. I'm still very grateful for your support, just not the wording XD.**

* * *

The clock was ticking.

Beads of sweat ran down his cheeks as he shook his head to focus himself. His hands were trembling in anticipation and anxiety as he deliberated his next choice carefully. He reached out...

"Darn!" Fiddleford pouted and sat back as Ford swiftly check-mated him in one move. His brows furrowed. "I don' get it! How'd ya do it, Stanferd!?" He glared at the chess board with a scrutinizing eye as Ford preened.

Ford smiled. "Practice." He glanced back at the chair where Stan was sitting, reading if you could believe it. Ford laughed. "Isn't that right, Stanley?"

Stan blinked up from his book and hummed. "What's true? I swear it wasn't me." He chuckled and sat up. "No really, what are we talking about?" He set the book aside and stepped toward the table where Fidds and Ford were sitting. He laughed again.

"Oh. Chess."

Ford nodded with a grin. "Remember all those rainy days wasted away?" Stan smirked and crossed his arms.

"Sure do. I also remember I kicked your butt at this game."

Ford frowned slightly before shrugging, the smile returning. "How else could I have gotten so good if I didn't have a good opponent?"

Fidds raised a brow at Stan. "You play?"

Stan's face fell. "Don't believe it, do you? Well try and beat me, Fiddles." Ford hurriedly stood up as Stan took his place, running to the other side of the room to pull up himself a chair so he could spectate. Fiddleford looked uncertain like he really wasn't sure if he _did_ believe it. Stanley wasn't really the strategy game sorta guy.

Although...Ford didn't easily admit defeat. Fidds smiled good-naturedly however as he finished resetting the board. "White firs', Stanley." Stan snorted.

"That's such a weird rule. Never liked it." He quickly made his first move. {Forgive me I'm not actually that good at chess. Btw this is the rambly author. Hi.} He raised a brow. "Your turn, Mcgucket."

Fidds was just as quick to move and he gestured to the board to indicate Stan's turn. They continued they're back and forth as the game commenced.

Fiddleford got more and more frustrated as the game continued. By now he was sure that Stan could've beaten him in the first three moves, yet he seemed determined to bleed Fidds for all he had. The only thing he had left standing by the time the game ended was his king.

His entire army sat on Stan's side of the board. Fidds glanced at the space beside him set aside for the kills he usually managed to make.

It was empty.

Fidds gaped. "Stanley! How!?" He looked right into Stan's smug eyes. "Ya dragged tha' out on purpose!" Fidds scowled at him and Stan laughed.

"Yep."

Ford couldn't help but chime in with his brother's laughter. It was nice to see Stan feeling confident in something for once. Really confident. Stan's act never worked on Ford. He gave Fidds an 'I told you so, look.' Fidds pouted.

"Well, this jus' ain't fair. Why am I even here!? The group mascot?! Stan's called me cute ofte' enough." Fidds mumbled the last bit, but both men heard it anyway. The twins frowned in tandem.

They hadn't meant to upset him. But perhaps Fidds hadn't been feeling tip-top in the first place. Stan spoke first, standing up to lean against the table.

"What's wrong Fidds? I was just messin' around. It was supposed to be fun." Stan's brow was furrowed in concern. Ford nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I thought we were enjoying ourselves?"

Fidds stood up, the chair squeaking back in protest. He snapped at them. "At mah expense, as usual!" He quickly clomped out of the room, letting the door bang behind him.

Stan blinked and Ford's lips tightened into a thin line of concerned bewilderment.

Ford spoke. "Well that was abrupt and out of character."

Stan snorted. " Yeah okay, Ford." He glanced at Ford and back at the door. "I'm gonna go after him. Stay here Mr. Out of color or whatever it is you just said." Ford looked slightly offended as Stan ran out of the living room and into Fidds' office.

...

Fiddleford was slowly stewing his brain in his own thoughts when Stan creaked the door to his office open.

"Fiddlesticks- I mean, uh Fiddleford?" Stan poked his head into the room. Fidds ignored him as he stared at the wall.

Stan stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. "Fidds?" He asked quietly.

Fiddleford sighed. "What do you want."

Stan stepped forward and laid a heavy hand on Fiddleford's shoulder. "Fidds, what's wrong? You can't possibly be mad about the chess game, right?"

"I...suppose not." Fidds sighed and pushed Stan's hand off his shoulder. "Guess I was jus' takin' mah stresses out on ya."

Stan's brow furrowed. "Stresses? What on earth are ya stressed about!?"

"DYING!" Fiddleford snapped, standing up to get in Stan's face. Stan didn't lean away. He never did, but he did raise both brows.

"Um. Dying?"

Fidds stared at him, wide-eyed and sat down, slumping in his chair. "Yes. I-I think I'm dying."

Stan rolled his eyes.

"Well, why don't we check?"

...

After a trip to the doctor's, it was obvious that Fiddleford wasn't dying. He was, however, a lot better at chess.

Never get stuck in a doctor's waiting room kids.

* * *

 **XD Okay I can't excuse how this ended but I really wanted to post SOMETHING so I had to wrap this up quick. I didn't mean for Fidds to be so dramatic but I hope this makes sense? Anyway I'm gonna be back soon with some WAY better stuff, I hope. Maybe next week? The play I'm in is ending then so I'll have more time to write. Well, see ya guys. Thanks for reading and remember I haven't forgotten any of you!**

 **Ford: Hey, look. Been a while since we've appeared here.**

 **Stan: Yeah, great, but look at how out of character we are.**

 **Fidds: Cats.**

 **Stan: Uh. What?**

 **Ford: He said Cats.**

 **Stan: Yeah but like why.**

 **Ford: I don't know everything Stanley!**

 **Stan: Well that's news to me!**

 **this is also unedited XD :P**


	11. Yay more filler

**Hey. Hi. Please don't hate me for being so inactive...please.**

 **Prompt: idk I'm just rambling. Guys I really haven't been feelin' it. Also, wrote this on my phone. Sorry.  
**

* * *

Stan sat on the floor of the old boxing ring, watching as the blood from his nose dripped slowly unto the floor.

It had been a hard day. Crampelter had decided to pick on _both of them_ Ford again. Although instead of just a few harsh words thrown at a distance, things had gotten physical, _fast_.

Ford helped, of course, he did. He was a nerd, not an invalid, but Stan tried his best to take the brunt of it. So, of course, he was a bloody mess afterward. Ford berated him for his recklessness. Stan listened, he just didn't care. It was only after Ford whispered a thank you to him as they went to bed that Stan said anything.

"Thank you, Stanley."

"Love ya, Sixer."

Stan thought as he watched the blood fall. Maybe if he had listened to Ford more, maybe if he'd been better, nothing would have gone wrong in the first place. Maybe, instead of sitting on the bottom of an illegal boxing ring after everyone was gone, he'd be laughing with his best friend, eating something disgustingly sweet and watching a nerdy movie. He'd be warm and unharmed, if not a little bruised. He'd be safe.

Would he? Was he really ever safe? His closest- his ONLY friend- hurt him in was he couldn't describe. His own family had carved out his heart and placed it on a chopping board.

Stan scowled at the small puddle of blood that pooled beneath his face. Why did he even bother!? No one cared for a lowlife high school drop out. He didn't even care about himself! Never had! Why would he keep going? Why did he stick around!?

Stan didn't know. All he knew was that he was going to keep going anyway and although it aggravated the crap outta him, he'd keep trying.

As long as he kept moving, he'd find the answer. Eventually.

 **... Thirty years later.**

Stan smiled as he leaned back on the porch couch, watching the children play. He cracked open the tab of his soda and sighed at the satisfying noise.

"Why do you enjoy those carbonated beverages so much, Stanely?"

Stan glanced at a genuinely curious six fingered scientist. He shrugged.

"Want some? It's not just mine ya know."

The man raised his brow and took the undrunk can. He lifted it to his lips...and spat it right out.

"Gah! It burns!" The scientist placed it down quickly, rubbing at his nose. "Why does it making my nose burn!?"

Stan snickered. "Says the man who drank thirty-year-old cosmic sand."

The man scowled. "I already explained to you, I am not capable of getting drunk."

"Tell that to the song you sang that night."

The man scowled again, hiding his embarrassment. Stan snickered again and relaxed. His eyes followed the screaming children lazily.

They were silent for a moment before Stan's companion spoke up again.

"Thank you, Stanely. For- for everything."

Stan stiffened. Something dormant in his heart began beating again and he laughed.

"Love ya, Ford."

Stan didn't stop smiling the rest of the day. He had finally found his reason.

 _Finally, the universe gave me a dang answer! What horrible customer service. Even I was better than that.  
_

* * *

 **Stan: ...**

 **Ford: Oh. Oh- haha. I get it.**

 **Stan: Why am I literally watching myself bleed out in the beginning?**

 **Me: Um...because sometimes I get distracted? So you got distracted? Pain is just an abstract concept? Gah, Idk.**

 **Stan: You have problems.**

 **Me: Says the man who watched his nose bleed out. Yeesh, what a weirdo.**

 **Stan: !?**

 **XD okay obviously don't take anything I say seriously. But seriously XD, love ya, don't die, hope this was something you liked and wasn't a complete waste of your time...**


	12. UM SHOVES FLUFF AT YOU

**Can someone turn me into wood.**

* * *

"And they call me dramatic!" Stan laughed as he threw the last blanket over his brother's shivering body. Ford grunted as it fell on him.

"Y-y-yes, Stanley. Th-th-they do," Ford quipped, his voice rasping. If he wasn't sick, perhaps it would have sounded snarky, but for the most part, it merely made Ford seem even more pathetic than before. He rolled over in bed, coughing as he moved.

"Your throat sounds like it's gotten worse," Stan stated, his eye's lined with worry. Walking back toward the door, Stan nodded to the lump of blankets behind him. "I'll be back with some tea or somethin'. Sound good?"

"Mmm." Ford's hum was quiet, but Stan heard it just fine. He huffed, shaking his head. Ford never took well to illness. {Some people, like Stan, could just power through it, even get themselves to work harder. Ford was _not_ one of those people. However, in Ford's defense, Stan was eighty percent sure he had Strep throat and even Stan didn't feel like existing whenever he had Strep.}

He moved down the hallway quietly, almost on his tiptoes. It wasn't late, in fact, it was almost noon, but their parents didn't tolerate much noise, especially while they were working. He made it to the kitchen doorway, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He got to work, putting the kettle on the stove. Both Ford and him had gotten sick enough in the last seventeen years, that Stan knew what he was supposed to do, even if he had never done it before.

Can't be that hard, right?

It didn't take long for the water to boil and he shut off the stove before the whistle could reach his parent's ears. He poured the tea, adding a generous dollop of honey, wrapping it with a cloth. The mug was hot to the touch, steam hitting Stan in the face. He carefully maneuvered himself and the tea back into their bedroom, only stopping to curse once as a drop hit his bare foot.

"Stan...?"

"Yeah Sixer, it's ya good ole Stan the man. Didja miss me?" Stan asked, smirking when Ford began to laugh.

"Sta-Stan! don't make me-" Ford coughed, eyes clenched as they began to water. "Laugh." He finished.

Snickering, Stan set the mug on his nightstand, right beside where Ford's glasses sat. For convenience, Stan let Ford have his bed. This meant that Stan would be sleeping on the top bunk tonight, but he preferred to worry about that later when it was more pertinent.

Ford groaned, turning toward the mug, one eye open to stare at it.

"What are you doin', bro? It ain't gonna start flying. Probably." Stan said, glancing between Ford and the mug. Ford sighed, slumping further into the mattress.

"Contemplating." He whispered. Stan was sure Ford hadn't _meant_ to whisper, but that's what a sore throat did to you. Stan nodded in understanding.

"C'mon. I'll help ya." Stan sat on the edge of the bed, slumping so as to not hit his head. He grabbed Ford's hand, pulling him up. Ford coughed as Stan threw another pillow behind Ford's head. "Better?" He asked, pulling the blankets up to Ford's shoulders. Ford grunted.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes." Stan picked up the steaming mug and brought close to Ford's hands. "Ya think you can hold it," Stan teased, "Or do I gotta spoon feed ya?"

"Haha very funny." Ford sniffed, taking the mug into trembling, six-fingered hands. Stan slowly let go of it, smiling when Ford managed to keep it steady.

"I know, right? I'm hilarious!" He continued, trying to keep Ford distracted long enough to actually swallow something.

"Hey, Sixer? Remember when we found that sewer? And we thought the Jersey Devil was using it as it's secret lair?" Stan grinned, his eyes bright. He internally celebrated when Ford shifted forward in interest.

"Yeah, that was back...when we were what? Seven? Ten? I don't remember. But I could'a sworn we were onto somethin'..." Stan continued the story, embellishing it and adding details that Ford knew _definitely_ didn't happen. A good example would be the four-foot rats. Even so, it was captivating. They were only halfway through the tale when Ford set aside the mug, having emptied it. He noted it but didn't stop talking, watching as Ford's breathing evened out toward the end of the story. Ford had fallen asleep.

Stan's smile fell and he ruffled his brother's hair, feeling his forehead at the same time. Ford still had a fever. He got up and stretched. He needed to get a cold rag for Ford's head and then maybe something to eat. Soup, maybe.

 _Back to the kitchen, I guess._

...

Hanging up the phone, Gigi got up. She'd had more phone calls than usual that day, which in her opinion, was the universe screwing her over. Her child was sick in bed and she was stuck giving other people what they wanted. Not an ideal situation.

Fortunately, her work hours were over, and she cut off the last customer, dropping the phone into the receiver. Stanford was going to need attention. Last she checked his fever still hadn't broken, and his tonsils were swelling. She went swiftly to the kitchen, intending to make some tea and get Stanford something to eat. She was sure he hadn't gotten enough nourishment since that morning.

She walked in through the door, stopping abruptly a few feet in.

Stanley was already in the kitchen, humming as he stirred a small pot.

"Dee dop doo, making broth for my bro, dee dum doo, how does cooking work la dee da."

Gigi had to keep herself from snorting at the song. It wasn't too hard. She smiled, her heart warm.

She had raised such good boys. sometimes she wondered if she deserved them. She walked up behind her son, "Perhaps, I'd better take over."

Stan jumped, turning with a ladle in hand. He visibly relaxed after glancing Gigi's happy smile.

"Hey, Ma! Good day of work?" He asked, handing her the ladle.

She shrugged. "You seemed to have a better one," She said, giving him a knowing look. He laughed, rubbing at his neck.

"Heh, I guess. I'm...gonna go get that cold rag."

Stan ran off, leaving Gigi grinning behind him.

 _Never stop being you, Stanley._ She thought as she took a taste of the soup.

"Not bad..." She laughed. "Not bad at all."

* * *

 **What is this?**

 **What have I created?**

 **Stan: Well I dunno, why ya askin' me?**

 **Ford: I don't think she was...**

 **Me: Yeah I was sorta screaming into a void if ya know what I mean.**

 **Stan: ...No. I don't.**

 **Me: Oaowjcfaowpejf aiwjroiaew**

 **Ford: ...I'm gonna...leave now...*Exits through a portal***

 **Stan: WAIT TAKE ME WITH YOU *jumps in after him.***

 **Me: ...well that was unexpected and now I'm lonely again. Yay.**

 **Okay, so this was supposed to be the MM (Miss Mystery) prompt for "Stan takes Ford's place at school when Ford gets sick" But it turned into this so screw you universe I'm gonna post it anyway.**


End file.
